Let It Snow
by Mistletoe Contest
Summary: Akin to a resolution, it follows you into the new year to stay for a little while. It's like when the snow finally melts for good, it washes the remnants of all the bad habits and pessimistic attitudes you've collected within the past year or over a small lifetime away with it


**Title:** Let It Snow

**Summary:** Akin to a resolution, it follows you into the new year to stay for a little while. It's like when the snow finally melts for good, it washes the remnants of all the bad habits and pessimistic attitudes you've collected within the past year or over a small lifetime away with it

**Pairing:** Bella/Edward

**Rating:** M

**Word count:** 10, 983

_December 21st, 2014_

"Mark my words, missy, I will hug the shit out of you!"

My laughter rings loudly across the parking lot, causing some of the other customers nearby to turn their heads. "Noted. And really, I'm counting on it. It's been so long since you've done that."

"Too long." She pauses, takes a deep breath, and despite the fact that it couldn't take more than a few seconds, it seems to last a small eternity. If nothing else, it's long enough for my guilty conscience to make its presence known. A recurring occurrence recently and all around nuisance. "Three years is way too long, Bella."

"Alice…"

"I know, I know. You had your reasons. I get it. But blah, that doesn't mean I have to like it. I have half the mind to kick your butt once we get there."

"Granted. Hugging and butt-kicking. What else is on your list?"

"Ugh, don't try to be cute. I'm mad at you, you know? You just up and left and explored the seven seas, leaving me to fend for myself—"

My phone almost drops from my hand hearing her antics. "Oh, get the fuck out! The seven seas! Really? What, I'm a pirate now?"

"You know what I mean!"

"If I remember correctly, you left me first! Also, I did visit you in Paris, or have you forgotten all about that?"

She laughs. "As if I ever could. Which is a small wonder considering the amount of _vin_ we guzzled down. Good times. And oh! Speaking about Paris, those Parisian boys were just too yummy…"

She sighs dreamily a few times, and I can easily guess where her mind went. "Luc?"

"Luc! Oh. My. God. The things that man could do with his tongue and fingers. Oh la la. And the way he fucked me all over the apartment— Jesus Christ!"

"Yeah, I was there, too. Remember?"

"Sorry. But, I mean, c'mon, you saw that thing."

That I did. The neighbors in the building opposite the one we stayed in back then did as well. Which isn't much of a surprise since Luc loved to flounce around naked and smoke his cigs in the tiny balcony that faced the street.

"Does James know that you're fantasizing about other guys?"

"Jasper."

"What?"

"His name is Jasper."

"I'm pretty sure the guy you gushed about for two hours last time we talked was named James."

"Whatever. That was weeks ago. James is a tool and a complete waste of space. Jasper, on the other hand, is it."

"It, what?"

She gives an impatient huff. "It! Jasper is _it_! The man of my dreams and whom I'm going to marry one day."

"Uh huh." I'm pretty sure I've heard all that a few times before, too, but I decide to keep my mouth shut. "So, when did you two meet?"

"Oh, we actually met six months ago, but we only got together last week."

And I'm not going to comment on that either. It's better this way. I don't want our face-to-face reunion to be tainted or even ruined due to a bad case of foot-in-mouth on my part. "Well, I'm looking forward to meeting him. Is he coming, too? When are you going to get here, anyway?"

"Early afternoon on the 24th and yes."

"Goodie. And you've managed you keep your mouth shut?"

"Yup. Mom doesn't suspect a thing, and neither does anybody else."

"Not gonna lie, I didn't think you had it in you. Super proud right now."

"Funny."

"Always. No, seriously, I admire your strength. I've had to dodge Esme's last few calls so as not to risk spoiling everything, and I'm feeling pretty bad about it. Just keep it up for two more days, yeah?

"I promise, I will. God, I'm dying to see their surprised faces when they find you there. Seriously, I can't wait. I'm literally buzzing just thinking about it."

Her enthusiasm mirrors my own, and the smile I detect in her voice is as infectious as ever. "I know! I can't wait, either. And ugh, there's still so much to do and prepare! I might go mad by the time you all make it to Colorado, but at least it will keep me busy."

"I wish I could make it there earlier, but with half the department fallen sick, I just can't do it. Do you need me to bring something? I mean, we all know that I suck at cooking, but excel at buying and picking things up. Hit me."

"Ha! Don't I know it! Um... nothing I can think of right now. I actually just left the store, but that's mostly all stuff for baking. I'll definitely have to make a few more trips, but that is to be expected. Nah. I'm good. Thanks for offering, though!"

"No problem. Ugh. Can you hold on a second?" Bits and pieces of a muffled conversation reach my ear, as I tuck the phone between my shoulder and head.

It takes four full paper bags stored into the trunk of my rental and a returned shopping cart before Alice gets back to me.

"Hey, would love to chat some more, but work calls. Just…" A beat passes, then two. Her voice as she speaks is quiet and lugubrious, so unlike her chipper self. "Sometimes I feel that I've let you down. I mean, if I hadn't opened my big fat mouth, maybe you wouldn't— "

The easy banter from earlier is already a distant memory. Scenes from a past December night flicker before my eyes. Blinking them away is as fruitless as trying to swallow past the lump in my throat. "Please don't, Alice. Stop. Just...don't. None of this was your fault. Really, it was all me."

"Three years, Bella! Do you have any idea how much we missed you?"

"I've missed you guys, too. So much."

There's sniffling on her end of the line. "Ah shit, now I'm crying. Look what you did!"

"Are you really crying or are those the crocodile tears you used with Carlisle and Charlie to get your way?"

"Ugh, get lost. You'll pay for that on Wednesday. Hugs and butt-kicking, right?

"Hugs and butt-kicking."

"Okay, I really gotta run now. Take care. I love you!"

"I love you too, sis. See ya, soon."

The call disconnects, and I'm left in the parking lot with my heart in the pit of my stomach, staring at my phone. There's a nagging, creeping sensation in the back of my mind, demanding more attention than I had been willing to give these past few weeks. And as its pressing and pushing incessantly increases, I realize that it had been yet another flawed decision on my part.

Steam clouds billow from the mug in my hands, the porcelain warming my skin as the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills my nostrils. As much as I love and need my caffeine fix, it's too hot to drink for me as it is, so I place the mug on the spacious granite kitchen counter along with my phone. Swishing and tapping over the screen with my pointer finger, I start my beloved Christmas playlist to further get into the spirit.

_Oh the weather outside is frightful _

_But the fire is so delightful_

_And since we've got no place to go_

_Let it snow! Let it snow! Let it snow!_

Aah, Michael Bublé. I usually can't stand the guy, but every damn year come December, I'm a sucker for his voice and renditions of the good old classics. It's a love-hate kinda thing, really, because as soon as the holidays are over, I'm back to skipping his songs or changing the station when he comes on on the radio.

Letting Michael serenade me, I turn to the massive whitewood cabinet beside the window that grants a view to most of the frontyard and winding driveway. It holds the majority of Esme's cookbooks and recipes on display. Of course, her true gems are safely hidden away from snooping eyes, but I'm not looking for those, anyway. She'd given most of them to me freely years ago. Except her late grandmother's fabulous apple pie recipe, that is. Despite quasi-raising me as one of her own and constantly telling me that she loves as if I were her own blood, this is apparently where she draws the line, and no bribery on my part can ever sway her.

It is true that I'm only an 'honorary' Cullen, as Carlisle, Esme's husband, liked to refer to me. Not that I'm complaining or anything for I'm pretty sure that's the reason I've always gotten away with a lot more than their own kids. However, as a kid, the difference in last names really bothered me. Up to the point where I went up to Carlisle and my own dad, Charlie, at one of our joint family dinners to officially change my name to Isabella Swan-Honorary-Cullen. It was silly, of course, but I was only eight years old at the time and desperate to let the world know that I belonged to a functioning and loving family.

It was a few months after my mother decided to pack her bags overnight and leave my father and me, never to be seen again, that the Cullens moved into town. In the podunk town of Forks, the good Chief of police's marital demise was blissful fodder for the gossip mills regardless of the fact that my dad was respected and cherished by all. And though most of the stories told in hushed whispers between aisles in supermarkets and diners circled around Renée and the many ludicrous and scandalous possibilities that could have led to her running away, Charlie was still the man left behind with me, the girl without a mother.

The day Carlisle and Esme knocked on our door to politely introduce themselves couldn't have caught my dad and me at a worse time. It was my seventh birthday. I remember being in a particularly sullen mood, still struggling with my mom's easy disregard and then finding that she hadn't called by the time the knock was heard— or couldn't be bothered to— to at least wish me a happy birthday was weighing down on me hard. What really threw me off and led to the hissy fit the Cullens found me in, however, was my best friend's attempt at cheering me up, which sent my perfect birthday cake flying onto the kitchen floor. Charlie had gone to open the door, and therefore only caught the grand finale of the show as— alerted by my sudden screeching and loud wailing— all three adults came running into the room wide-eyed and probably expecting the worst. What they found were two kids crying their eyes and hearts out. Jake due to my screaming at him and pushing hard enough to make him fall butt-first into the cake mess he created and me from sheer anger. Admittedly, not my finest hour. I'd never been a kid known to throw tantrums before. However, the circumstances had changed; my emotions and mind were in a messy, confused state. Nothing seemed to make much sense anymore, so why should I?

The embarrassment I felt from being caught in the middle of my somewhat violent outburst, and by my dear dad on top of complete strangers no less, coupled with the shock and horror I saw on Charlie's face over my behavior only spiked my fire. My crying increased in volume and intensity, plates and cups went flying all over the place, garnishing the chocolate goo and linoleum with shattered pieces alike. Little Jake had been smart and quick enough to find solace in my daddy's arms right as the first items found their ending in bits and pieces, which thankfully saved him from getting injured by my hands. I couldn't have forgiven myself if my raging had caused him harm.

I was stomping my way past Esme, desperate to just go and hide in my room, when suddenly, she pulled her arms around me and engulfed my sobbing, shivering frame in a tight hug. Just like that. She never told me whether the local gossipmongers had already reached her and filled her head with stories about the poor little Swan girl prior to her visit to my house or not. Whenever I asked— and I have many times over the years— she would simply smile, take my hand or kiss my cheek, and say, "In that moment, you seemed to have needed a hug." It was the year I had turned eighteen that I finally learned that there had been more to the incident than I could have ever suspected. We were all once again spending the Christmas holidays here in Colorado at the Cullen's opulent cabin, which had become somewhat of a tradition over the years. We were baking up a storm of cookies while Carlisle and Charlie, along with Emmett, Edward and Alice were out to find the perfect tree to put up in the living room and restock on groceries. Why she chose that exact moment to reveal the secret I didn't know she held tight to her chest, I couldn't say; only that she did, and her tale broke my heart.

The year before Renée's departure, Esme lost her mother. The stress and heartache over her loss was too grave and eventually induced an even greater one: she miscarried. The whole family suffered and mourned the deaths, but it was Esme that took it the hardest. Unable to handle the loss of a beloved parent, and then watching both her beloved mother and baby girl being put to rest, she fell into a severe depression that threatened to swallow her whole. Carlisle felt that to keep her from falling deeper into the dark abyss a change was imperative, hoping that a new scenery would help her cope, and praying that the heavy weight of bad memories could be left behind in the city they were turning their backs on. Putting an ocean between them and the bitter aftertaste of Chicago, they spent the summer in Italy, visiting relatives. It was a relief for everybody when Carlisle's theory was proven correct, and they found Esme, albeit slowly, recovering from her pain. Still, when it was time for them to return to The States, they substituted living in the big city for our dreary town.

Although it wasn't exactly the same, the raw emotions I let pour out for everyone to see were all too familiar for her. Even when my sorrow was loud and impulsive where hers was quiet and imploding, they were the same, mirroring one another. So when she pulled me into her arms, it was to hold and console the both of us. And after her story was told, I repaid her in kind and let her cry it all out as I hugged her tight.

The connection between us was instant; we bonded over our pain, so to speak. Even if I wish we'd both been spared the sorrow and hate that she still gets sad over the little girl that never got to take her first breath, I'll forever be grateful that she stepped into my life the way that she did. I couldn't have made it without Esme, wouldn't be the same person I am today had I not let her and the entire Cullen family into my life. I love Charlie dearly and nothing will ever change that. He's a great, caring father who tried his utmost to raise a little girl by himself while balancing demanding hours at work. He did the best he could, and there is absolutely nothing I could ever fault him for, but I think deep down he was just as grateful as I that we didn't have to face everything all by ourselves anymore. All of a sudden, we were this big and crazy patched-together family. Even if dad and I were only 'quasi-adopted', I was thrilled to have an additional and whole set of parents to claim my own and referred to as Mom and Papa C.

For the first time ever, I even had siblings. Of course, it was easier for Alice and I to connect, since we are the same age and had more in common, but the boys were just as openly welcoming as the rest of their family. So while Alice and I were inseparable on sight, Emmett and Edward took on the role of my big brothers. Granted, growing up, I had already found a best friend and somewhat of a brother in Jake, but he lived outside of Forks on the Quileute Reservation in La Push, and therefore not as close to me as the Cullens did, which was just down the road. Also, for the most part, the four of us attended the same school, another thing Jake and I were never able to since there was a closer school to him on the reservation.

Everything was just so easy and comfortable in an effortless way with them. We fell into each other's lives, healing wounds and scars where it was needed with open arms and hearts on both sides. Our families became one strange item and I thought I would burst from sheer happiness. I loved them so much. All of them.

So imagine my heartbreak when Charlie and Carlisle, both trying hard not to burst out laughing, informed me that the only way to get my name officially changed to Cullen was by marrying either Emmett or Edward. At eight years old, all boys were gross and yucky to me, even the three I loved and built pillow forts with. My thick-headed self refused to accept that. It just wouldn't do. And so after dinner, and with the help of Esme, I simply married Alice instead.

It wasn't just me though, Charlie was equally as happy to find honest and unbiased friends in Carlisle and Esme; they got along great. And it must have been quite the relief for him to know there was someone I could turn to when he wouldn't do. I sure as hell was glad for them the day I got my first period. Just imagining what kind of uncomfortable clusterfuck that conversation could have been. To this day, it makes me cringe hard. Talking about boys with him or God forbid, anything related to sex starting with kissing wasn't possible either. The one-time nonsense talk about marrying one of the Cullen boys aside, he was of the notion that members of the other sex were taboo until I hit my thirties.

What Charlie doesn't know and all that, right?

And while he struggled with accepting Alice and me hitting puberty as a legitimate thing, he got along great with Emmett and Edward. Unlike the rest of us, they were thrilled to go on fishing and camping trips whenever they could with him, Jacob, and Jacob's dad.

I'm not saying it was all rainbows and sunshine. Hell. No. There were arguments and fights, tears and heartache like is normal in any family. In the long run, the good times do outweigh the bad ones. Joint dinners and vacations, birthday parties and Christmases, and all the little moments you don't always appreciate right away turn out to be the most valuable in hindsight.

Things quieted down some after Emmett left for college in California, followed by Edward the year after. Alice and I still had two more years in Forks High on our plates at the time; a fact the both of us were anything but happy about. The boys got to explore the world on their own, getting to start their own lives away from boring old Forks, while the two of us were still stuck in the very same, seemed like the biggest and most unjust punishment to us. Walking down the same old streets along with the same old people simply wasn't enough anymore; we thirsted for more than the town and its dull inhabitants could have ever been able to offer. We'd outgrown it all; being more mature than our peers. Or at least, so we thought and secretly prided ourselves on it.

Esme and Carlisle saw to it that we still all got together for the holidays, culminating in our annual trip into the snowy mountains of Colorado. And even when some of our schedules clashed on other occasions, no one ever missed out on Christmas. It's always been my personal favorite, and my love for our shared time increased even more so after the boys moved out of state. That Christmas of Edward's freshman year might be one of those memories I'll hold dear forever. All seven of us seemed extra cheerful and joyous back then. Emmett and Edward all but clinging onto Esme, which was only slightly less than Alice and I clung onto them, demanding and pestering for yet another college-life story. Even though they both pretended to be increasingly more annoyed with our nagging, I know they ate our attention up. The evidence was the bright sparkling in their eyes and suppressed laughter. There was this crazy-messy snowball fight that lasted about a day because someone would always breach the truce or start the fight anew. The presents and Esme's superb cooking and baking seemed greater, the mood in general merrier. The cherry on top was Carlisle and Charlie's eggnogg-induced rendition of "Jingle Bell Rock." I've never been more thankful that phones come with cameras these days for that footage is pure gold. My own personal Get-Out-of-Jail card, if you will. The both of them still duck their heads whenever they hear that song playing somewhere. Really, that Christmas vacation had been simply wonderful.

The year after that, not so much. There'd been a horrific car accident caused by black ice a few days prior to our leaving Forks. Four lives were lost that night, one of them a little boy, and five were severely injured. As Head of Surgery and Chief of Police, both Carlisle and Charlie had been direct witnesses to the damage, and even with their respective years of experience in their jobs, neither managed to shake off the echo of what they had seen. It was understandable, of course; I'd probably been more worried if they had. However, with Edward being moody all through the trip for reasons unknown and Emmett more interested in texting and chatting with his girlfriend via phone than spending more than just mealtimes with any of us, it just wasn't the same. It was different. Off. Maybe I'd have been more understanding of their feelings and not let their lack of interest get to me if things hadn't already been weird long before we took the trip.

Of course, I knew that they both had their respective studies to focus on, and that they'd want to take full advantage of their social and private life away from the watchful eyes of the parental unit. I couldn't fault them for enjoying themselves and living their lives, when I was impatiently awaiting the day that I could officially do just that myself. Distance was another issue; though relatively close by, the trip from California to Forks wasn't exactly made in a couple of hours. I got all that. I wanted for them to be happy and have fun. I really did. But then phone calls weren't returned, texts left unanswered; one skipped long weekend visit here, a forgotten birthday there. First Edward couldn't make it, then Emmett, then neither.

The more time passed, the less they seemed to care. Edward in particular appeared to want to keep us at bay. Whether intentionally or not, it hurt me something terrible back then. I missed them a lot; missed the _us_. I don't deny that my perception of things could have been worse than they actually were. Handling rejection was never my strong point, and their behavior felt a lot like rejection to me. Things had changed without my consent. Life had intervened and I felt utterly betrayed. It was petty and immature, but that's what it came down to.

Call it a defense mechanism or claim that my stubborn streak had gotten the best of me, but by the time Alice and I graduated High School I deemed it only fair to keep them at arm's length in return. Whereas my love for them never wavered, my pride sought revenge. I wasn't so much ignoring them as keeping things superficial. A fact Alice seemed more bothered by than the culprits themselves.

It wasn't until Alice and I moved to Seattle that I understood just how addictive a little taste of freedom actually could be.

_December 22nd, 2014_

My eyes follow the white flakes as they lazily fall from the sky. I'm a lover of anything warm and sunny, but if there's one thing I've always loved about winter beside the many holidays, then it's the snow. It never ceases to amaze me how any ordinary scenery can change into something mystical and magical overnight due to freshly fallen snow, all pure and untouched, and oh so beautiful. When it falls as slowly and quietly as this, it adds a sense of peacefulness and serenity to it all, regardless of whether it's a busy city street or the seclusion of the countryside. For a while, you feel like you're living in some fairy tale wonderland.

It's more than just the gorgeous visual I've learned to appreciate. It's all the big and small things I associate with this time of the year and the snow itself; everything they remind me of. Suddenly, I'm six years old again, counting the little dots sticking to the window pane as far as I can. Another time, I try to catch them on my tongue as they float past me and onto the ground, steadily adding to the cold blanket that crunches under my feet and glitters in the sun. There are so many memories of Charlie and I building snowmen and ice castles and then devouring more hot chocolate with marshmallows than was good for us. All the times we forgot to check the lighting before putting up the Christmas decorations in our house and yard, only to find half of the lights needed exchanging. And always, always the cottage on the hill and my family. Carlisle's countless attempts to teach me how to ski, baking cookies with Esme, and us kids chasing each other down hills on sleds or throwing snowballs.

And during my absence, I've realized that even with the veil of beauty muddied up and fading, the snow never loses its relevance. Akin to a resolution, it follows you into the new year to stay for a little while. It's like when the snow finally melts for good, it washes the remnants of all the bad habits and pessimistic attitudes you've collected within the past year or over a small lifetime away with it. Do-overs and make-overs; putting old feuds and grudges to rest or making amends. It's a white blank page for a fresh start; signifying the chance to change and begin anew.

Here's to leaving whatever happened in the past right there, in the past.

Movement flickers into my line of sight, disrupting my focus from the slowly darkening sky back to the frontyard. Though still a good distance away, the beam of the headlights reveals it to be an approaching car. Wiping my hands clean of the flour with a rag and removing the apron, I leave the kitchen to check the parlor and foyer again to see if there's enough room to bring the tree in without running the risk of demolishing the furniture. It's a good thing the dealer in town offers delivery for there was no way in hell I'd have managed getting an eight-foot fir tree in here and in one piece all by myself.

The car pulls up in front of the house. I listen for the slamming of a door before I open the door and step outside. However, the one I find sitting in the snow-covered driveway is not the delivery truck I expected. My breath catches in my throat at the same time my legs stop cooperating.

The license plate, the paint job as shiny as ever, the Seahawks and Chicago Bears keychains dangling from the rearview mirror...all so very familiar to me. Even with his face hidden by the uplifted trunk lid, I know it's him. I remain frozen in place, shocked and rattled to the bone, while he continues to rummage around in the back of his car.

As my heart thumps erratically in my chest— undecided between complete standstill and going into overdrive— my mind is a vortex of rampant thoughts, and I'm unable to comprehend even one of them. It's too much.

He shouldn't be here. Not yet, anyway. So why is he? Did Alice spill the beans after all? No. No, she promised. Swore. As my partner in crime, she wouldn't let me down like this. But then… how? Why is he here now and fucking up all my carefully laid out plans? Couldn't he have just stayed away for a couple more days like I expected, giving me the time needed to get into the right mindset and enough room to hide behind the rest of our shared family? Why must he always screw me over?

The trunk slams closed, and it's done; his eyes find mine.

The sound of his bag dropping onto the ground almost overpowers the small gasp that falls from his lips, but I hear it. "Swan."

And we're right back to where we were. Nothing has changed.

Physically, we're only standing a few feet apart, but emotionally, it's miles. Gooseflesh and shivers course through my body, but not from the cold.

He waits, expecting me to say something, but I won't. I can't, actually. The lump in my throat is too big to swallow past, and somewhere between opening the door and stepping outside, I guess I lost my voice.

Edward must have come to the same conclusion. The imprints of his boots corrupt the pure white surface as he walks up to me. His smile widens with every step closer he takes, turning as big as the surprise still so clear in his bright green eyes. Standing before me, he seems somehow taller and twice as handsome than I remember him being. The scruff on his jaw isn't exactly new, but his dark blond hair— though hidden under a beanie for the most part— appears shorter than when I last saw him.

And then he pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me and hugging so tight, it's almost too much.

It is too much. However, my own arms don't seem to agree, for they refuse to push him away, and circle his waist instead.

"I can't believe you're here," he murmurs against my hair. "It's so good to see you."

All I can do is nod against his collarbone.

"Man, this is such a great surprise! What are you even doing here?" He chuckles. "Hell, where have you been?

Shrugging in reply, I loosen my grip and take a step back. The distance between us is necessary; better. This schmoozing-up when there's still so much left unsaid is too much and more than I can handle. I'm so far from keeping up with my mind that's still running wild. I don't need his close proximity confusing me even further.

I can tell the gears in his head are grinding; the tic in his jaw gives it away. And as everything falls into place in there, the easy smile slips from his face. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Away," I reply, while walking back into the house, unwilling to brave the cold and this conversation at the same time.

"Away? That's it?" Another door slams close.

"You forgot your bag outside. And yes, that's it because that's what it comes down to."

"Fuck my bag!"

I turn for the kitchen. "No, thanks." The messy granite counter tops remind me that there is unfinished business to turn to. The irony.

"Do you think this is funny?" he shouts, ripping the blue beanie from his head and throwing it onto the hardwood floor. His hair really is short, only a little more than a buzz-cut.

"No, I don't think any of this is funny. Not at all," I say, and attack the lump of dough with my hands, kneading it once more. It should have been put in the fridge to cool down for a while, but who gives a fuck anyway. At least not right now.

Grabbing for the rolling pin, my eyes find Edward as he leans against the door frame with his arms and legs crossed and a pissed-off look decorating his face.

"So you're back to ignoring me now?"

And that little comment almost sends the rolling pin flying aimed directly at his face. I tighten the grip I have on the handles, just to be on the safe side, and work on the dough, rolling it thin. Too thin. "Quite the bitter taste, huh?"

"Oh, so that's what your stunt was about? Teaching me a lesson by dropping off of the earth overnight? Man, you're going to great lengths to make others feel like shit, aren't you?"

This time, the wooden utensil does slip from my fingers."You fucking–" I can't even finish that one because there are too many apt nouns that would fit the bill. As precaution, I leave the pin and knocked-over flour tin be and go looking for the cookie cutters instead. Anything to just keep my hands busy and my mind at least somewhat distracted from the force that is Edward's unexpected presence.

I finally find the darned cutters in one of the many tin cans Esme keeps around to store knick-knack in.

"No, please, go on. Finish that sentence. Curse me out. I don't care. Just fucking talk to me for God's sake!"

Biting my tongue, I slam one of the cutters through the spread dough and onto the counter with force.

"Or, you can just go on doing your thing as if I'm not standing here. Go ahead, make your cookies. I'm sure they'll run well with the family after four years of nothing from you." His snark grates on my nerves like fingernails scratching a chalk board.

Obviously, he's angry, and a part of me deep, deep down even gets that, but he's pissing me off with his attitude. I never thought our own little reunion would be all butterflies and sugar cookies, but this right here is the worst case scenario come true. We're like two powder kegs dancing round a lit fire pit. It's only a matter of time until one of us gets too close and goes off.

But hey, two can play this game, and if he wants to get a reaction from me, he shall get it. Throwing the used star-shaped cutter back into the tin with the others, I go over to the cupboard with the mugs and take out the biggest one. Walking over to the massive fridge, I grab the bottle of Bailey's I bought the first day I got here and fill the mug to the brim. Unfortunately, the good stuff is still on my list of things to get, so this will have to do. I guess there's always some brandy and cognac to be found in Carlisle's bar, but since I'm intent on holding onto the little bit of dignity I have left for as long as I can, I should avoid drinking those and, consequently, puking my guts out on the floor.

Leaning my back against the counter, I take a good sip and look on, letting him figure this one out on his own.

The moment the truth settles in. He starts shaking his head. No, that's not right, it's more than that. It's this one move where several things happen at once: putting his hands on his hips, throwing his head back and moving it slightly from side to side while sighing loudly. It's all disappointment. "Just me, huh. I was the only one left out. Great. This changes things then, I guess."

"It doesn't change anything."

"Ah, so you will talk to me after all. And yes, it sure as hell changes a lot! They all knew and—"

"Stop playing the victim. It really doesn't suit you."

"They lied to me!"

"Only because I asked them to! Also technically, omitting isn't the same as downright lying."

He all but jumps forward and stomps toward me, fuming. I've never seen Edward be aggressive before, but for a second I think this is the part where he'll get all in my face, shouting at me. He doesn't. Instead, he passive-aggressively gets a mug from the cupboard and then stomps back out of the kitchen, all while mumbling curses to himself and refusing to look at me.

When he walks back in a couple of minutes later, he's downing half the contents of Carlisle's bar in one go. Matching my stance, he leans against the counter where my poor cookie dough still lays cut and unfinished. He's still decked out in his boots and jacket, not even aware of the water trails he leaves across the clean floor.

He's still got the upset look on his face, but his voice is calmer when he starts speaking again. "Are you going to tell me now where you've been all this time?"

Taking a deep breath I try to match his effort. "Australia. For the most part."

It's almost comical, the way his eyes widen and his lips part. "Guess that's as good a place as any. Fucking Australia." Shaking his head again, he focuses his gaze on the stretch of counter next to him. "What did you do there?"

"My aunt and grandmother live there… Renée's side of the family. They've been asking me to visit them for years. You know this. We talked about all of us going there, remember? You were pretty excited about the prospect and—"

"Ah. Yeah, I remember now." There's a faint smile playing on his lips as he picks away at the dough, a few of the bits finding their way into his mouth. "Must have had a blast over there, seeing as you stayed so long."

"It was."

Humming around what must be half a fist of raw dough, he finally unzips his jacket and takes it off. Signaling for me to wait a second, he walks back out of the room.

A thought crosses my mind. "Your bag is still outside!"

Another round of cursing, and I hear the front door squeak open. I catch myself smiling. It's weird how this feels almost normal, like there's no wall standing tall between us, and we're the same people we once were. It's a shame the relief of the past few minutes can't wash away the bitter aftertaste of the past few years.

Edward returns sans jacket and boots, revealing a gray sweater and matching socks. Grabbing a dish rag from the drawer, he starts cleaning up the mess he created on the floor. "You said for the most part, where else did you go?"

"A few places in Europe, really. Rome, Madrid, Dublin, London...Paris."

The look he sends my way as his head snaps up is downright accusing, but he's quick to shake it off. "Of course. Well, that explains why Alice hasn't talked more than was absolutely necessary with me ever since she returned from her semesters abroad." He lets himself fall back on his ass and sits cross-legged on the floor, chuckling to himself. "You are the roommate she talked so much about. Fucking figures. This just keeps getting better and better."

"You asked a question. I gave you an honest answer," I say before emptying my mug with one gulp. "If you're going to get pissy everytime you hear something you don't like, we might as well just stop now. I have a million things I need to get done before Wednesday, and I'm running out of time. So, if we're really going to have that conversation, we can either have it right now or after the holidays. Neither will be pleasant for either of us, so we might as well get it over with and hopefully save us the awkward tension once the others are here."

He rubs his face, sighing. "I guess you're right. Can I have some of that?"

Refilling my mug, I pass the now half empty bottle of Bailey's along with the mug he previously used over to him.

"Right, so what did you do? I mean, how did you even pay for all that traveling around?"

"A lot of it was saved up from my student jobs, and of course, having to pay hardly any rent thanks to your parents helping a lot. And then I just took up jobs as translator for travelers and assisted tour guides. Then in Dublin I met this guy who works for some travel and lifestyle magazine. After we got to talking some, he offered me an internship. I had to write this mock article about discovering the city as a foreigner, sightseeing, must go-to places, nightlife, and all that. He liked it enough to actually put it up on the webpage. There were some other smaller pieces as well during my two months there, and when he learned that I'd head out to Paris and then later on to Australia, he asked me to write about those places as well. It's like my own mini blog-column, if you will."

The smile he sends my way is the brightest I have seen, yet. "Wow. That's… that's pretty damn awesome, Swan. I'm proud of you."

Though I cringe at the mention of his chosen nickname for me, I let it slide. "I actually had to borrow some money from my aunt for the plane ticket and visa for Australia. She runs a small hotel there, so that's where I stayed and worked as well." I take another good swig from my mug. "And uh, my grandmother was really lovely— both of them were. We got along great. She passed away though, my grandmother, I mean. She wasn't sick or anything, just old age. Anyway, I saw Renée there." I can feel it coming and settling in, this extra weight in my head, my throat and my heart. "She showed up for the funeral and reading of the will, and she… she didn't even recognize me. I spotted her right away because she hadn't changed much and well, it's not like twenty years will do much when you look so alike. That was just me though because she… Renée— that woman— she just walked past me like I was nothing. Even when they mentioned my name and it was clear I was in attendance… she didn't even blink. I watched her. She didn't even turn her head to see where I was. Nothing. In her world, I don't even exist anymore. She showed more emotion about learning she didn't inherit the big bucks than over seeing me. And she… she has a new family now: husband, son and daughter. I saw them heading back to their car after the reading, how she held hands with the girl and kissed her head and I—" It's done then. I'm crying, bawling my eyes out; unable to breathe, unable to see, unable to just stop.

And he's surrounding me, his arms encasing me once again. I want to tell him to not do it because I know that will only make me cry harder— that sweet, gentle gesture from him right now— but I can't. I can't because I need it; I need for someone to just hold me.

"I'm here. I got you. It's gonna be okay," he whispers in my ear, and kisses my head.

"I hate her!" A single sob shouldn't hurt so much, yet it does.

All I can do is cry.

I cry for the woman that left me behind and the one that hugged me so tight one day. I cry for the aunt I only just met and the grandmother with the sweet smile I hardly knew. I cry for my family and the lost years we won't get back. I cry for a dumb boy and a stupid girl, for Edward and me.

_December 23rd, 2014_

Setting the last chocolate-dipped cookie of the batch on the cooling rack, I can't help but smile to myself. Almost done. All that's left to do now baking-wise is the two different kinds of brownies, and then I'm set. However, taking a good look around the kitchen and finding all surfaces crowded with cookie tins, dirty pans and utensils, and strewn ingredients, I should probably clean up some first. After cramming as much as I can into the dishwasher and filling the sink with hot water and soap to let the rest soak, I start the coffee machine. Hell knows I need another fix after the shitty, sleepless night I had. Though Edward and I both called it a night early, I'd still lain wide awake into the early morning hours. Admitting defeat, I'd tiptoed back downstairs and baked one cookie batch after the other ever since.

With Bublé telling me about his dream of a white Christmas, I dry the freshly cleaned dishes and wipe down the counters.

Edward shuffles into the room a few minutes later with a rumpled shirt and a big yawn on his face. "Morning."

"Hi. Coffee?"

"Hmm. Yeah, that would be great," he replies with his still sleep-drunk voice.

It's a good thing I brewed a whole pot earlier. Fixing him a mug and adding one cube of sugar, I hand it to him.

"Thanks." His eyes wander along the packed counter tops. "Jesus, Swan, what is all this?"

I shrug, taking a sip from my own cup. "Couldn't sleep. Plus, it needed to get done. A Cullen-Swan kinda Christmas wouldn't be the same without an abundance of cookies and treats."

He flashes me a bright smile. "So true." Moving closer to the counter, he leans over the cooling rack as if inspecting the goodies on display there. "Are they actually any good? Someone should probably test taste them just to be sure." He tries to snatch one, but I'm quick to push him away, laughing.

"Don't you dare!"

"C'mon, it's just one cookie!"

"Ha! As if you or Emmett ever only ate just one, the whole batch is more likely!"

"Cookies are supposed to be eaten by the dozen." He pouts, feigning hurt.

I know from experience that for the Cullen men, this is actually a set habit. The amount of baked goods I've seen all three of them inhale is unreal. "That's still a no."

"You're so mean." He huffs. "Fine. What's on the agenda for today?"

"Mostly decorating. There're brownies waiting to be made, but they can wait until later. Definitely some grocery shopping, too. I should probably take a shower and change into some real clothes before that, though. I'm gross."

He gives me the once-over and pulls a face. "Yeah. Super gross. Nasty."

"Oh, shut up!" I give him another shove on my way out. "And stay away from my cookies!"

When I come back down again, I'm surprised to find the boxes that hold all kinds of festive decorations already out. Edward must have gotten them from the basement while I took my time showering and getting dressed.

I find him in the parlour, draping a string of lights around the Christmas tree, which was thankfully delivered yesterday afternoon as promised— and just in time for my breakdown, too.

"Thanks for carrying the boxes up," I say as I walk up to him.

"No problem. You shouldn't be doing all this stuff by yourself, anyway. Least I can do is help—" he breaks off mid-sentence, looking at me similar to the way he did yesterday in the driveway. Like I'm a ghost.

"What?"

"Nothing. You just… you look different. Your hair is longer."

Running my fingers through the still slightly wet strands, I brush them over one shoulder. "I guess it is." It's true that I used to wear my hair on the short side, especially when I was kid. I started letting it grow out once I reached high school, but never longer than shoulder length. Since I wore it up in a bun yesterday and this morning, he couldn't have seen that it reaches down to my breasts. Suddenly, I feel awfully self-conscious, and grabbing the elastic from my wrist, I twist my hair back up.

"I didn't mean in a bad way! You just… Nevermind."

Sighing, he turns back to the tree, and I follow suit. We work alongside in silence for a while, hanging baubles and ornaments; the awkwardness settled in thick between us.

"You know, you still haven't told me why you're here," he starts after the tree is fully hung, his gaze remaining on our little masterpiece. "I mean, are you going to disappear back to the other side of the world once the holidays are over or are you staying?" He means for his words to come across nonchalant, I'm sure, but the underlying edge to them is hard to miss. "And what about all this, what are you trying to accomplish?"

And just like that, the easy banter from this morning is gone, fleeting like the gossamer chance we had on fixing what was broken in a non-hurtful way. My hackles and all my defenses are up. "What does it look like to you?"

One quick move and we're facing each other, both with our arms crossed. "Oh, I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out, but I come up blank. You tell me."

"If you must know, then here it is. All I wanted to have is a nice Christmas celebration with everybody. I made plans and lists of what needed to be done to make it as nice as it used to be. It was meant to be a surprise, you know. I had it all figured out. But then you turned up and everything, all my efforts, went to shit! There. Happy now?"

"Ah, so it's my fault now? Well excuse me for ruining your plans. Maybe I'd have been more considerate of your intentions had I fucking known you'd even grace us with your presence this year. Yeah, what a great a surprise it is, indeed."

There have been many moments I thought I hated Edward Cullen, but this right now, is the first time I feel it might actually be true. "You're such an asshole." Unable to face him anymore, I turn away.

"That might be so, but at least I'm not running from my problems!"

Honestly, I meant to make an exit to the stairs— there's nothing I'd rather do then just hide in my room for years to come— but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I grab one of the still untouched boxes.

"Oh, I think I know all too well how you handle your problems and uncomfortable situations you find yourself in. You don't run, no. You simply pretend they don't exist at all!" The bitter venom hits its target and I watch as the anger-induced color fades from Edward's face. But while his fire all but simmers, my own ignites. "What, no snarky comeback? Too bad, really, I was having so much fun with your self-righteous attitude."

His bare feet shuffle over the floor, and for a second I think he'd might approach me to play it up sweet again— a move that would absolutely ruin me— so I take a few more steps to keep up the distance just to be on the safe side. Though, when I turn to look, he's sitting down on the dark leather wingback chair by the window with a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you like that. I don't want to fight with you, it's just..." He cracks his knuckles; takes a deep breath. "Look, I know I fucked up, but— "

"More like fucked and ducked." And then it's out there, this secret, this complication, the almost-regret; hanging heavier in the air than the thickest tension. I hadn't meant for the words to come out that way, they just slipped and stumbled past my lips in a knee-jerk reaction.

"You don't have to be so cruel."

"Cruel! Cruel? Oh honey, you don't know shit about what cruel is!" I all but throw the box onto the large sofa to my left. "That you even dare to... Wanna know what's fucking cruel? Spending the night with the guy you thought you knew, and then find him gone the next morning without a fucking word. Then he finally returns two days later with some girl under his arm, pretending that nothing ever happened, like it was some wishful thinking on my part! Mercilessly, he rubs his oh so happy relationship in my face, fucking with my head and my heart! And when I tell him that the other girl is crooked— because even though he ripped me to pieces and treated me like shit, I still feel and care for him— he calls me a petty and jealous little girl! See, you condescending fuck, that complete disregard of my feelings, that was fucking cruel!"

He jumps back to his feet, jabbing his pointer finger into his own chest. "You think that was easy for me!?"

"Yeah I can only imagine what kind of hardship getting your brains fucked out must have been for you! I was the one suffering, not you, so stop playing victim!" The tears finally spill and fall freely. "You know, I was so happy when you moved into our apartment. After drifting apart for years, I thought that would be our chance to grow close again. I never expected there could be more. Not for one second did I think I would ever fall for you, okay? It just happened. But all you did was hurt me, and make me feel uncomfortable and unwelcome in my own home!"

My chest, my lungs, my heart; I'm aching all over. However, in a sick and perverse way, it feels good to finally be able to throw it all back at him. Even though a small part of me dreads the repercussions, I'm done letting his recklessness dictate my life. "You want to know why I ran? Take a good hard look in the mirror and you'll know it! You drove me away, Edward. Leaving the only family I have behind was the hardest thing I ever did, but I had to in order to save myself from drowning in your wake! The physical distance was necessary and Alice was safe! Here, I had no one to turn to, not my parents and sure as hell not my brothers!"

Like me, he's all spit and fire now. "And maybe therein lays the fucking problem! You've always been so hellbent on us being a family, on the two of us being brother and sister. How the fuck do you think that made me feel? We may not share the same blood, but everyone around us treated you as such! You think I never cared for you? You don't know shit! I've lost count of the times you've been the only thing on my mind years ago!"

My heart pounds in my ears, my voice shaky and thin. "What are you trying to say?"

He moves to take a step toward me, but stops himself. "That I had my own reasons for pushing you away! I'm not some mind reader, how the fuck was I supposed to know that you secretly reciprocated my own feelings? I didn't know shit because you never even gave off the slightest hint that you saw me as more than a brother! Yes, I kept my distance and intentionally pushed you away, but only to save myself the rejection!"

His audacity really knows no boundaries and it's yet another slap in the face. "Fuck off!"

"What?"

"You don't get to do this. You're not going to twist shit around and make this into some cliché love story! What's next? I've spent years away from everyone I love in order to get to the point where I could face you again without feeling like shit, and now you're telling me it's been for nothing? What's next? The part where we realize that we simply misunderstood another and kiss and giggle over our shared stupidity? Fuck off!"

He does take a step in my direction, this time. Then a second and a third, slowly approaching me with his hands out in front of him. "I'm not twisting anything around! I really have been cruel to you and I apologize, for everything. But I couldn't have… We were both so drunk that night. I simply assumed you'd label it a dumb mistake to brush it under the rug and never speak of it again. I loved you! And I would do anything— give anything— to be able to turn back the time and make things right."

The heartbreak in his words rings clear in my ears, the sincerity is visible in his eyes, and the combination of both almost gets to me. Almost. Years ago, I'd have desperate prayed for his tale to be truth, would have grasped it like a straw and clung to it. But right now, I'm seething and I can't. I can't. "Get the fuck out!"

"Swan— "

"No, I mean it. You need to go. I don't… You have to leave. Now!"

"Are you fucking kidding me? Absolutely not. I won't go anywhere until we fix this."

"Alright then." And then, I do what I seem to do best: I run.

It's just a few quick steps from the parlor into the foyer, and unlike him, I at least wear shoes on my feet. Granted, their only uggs and pretty much useless in in the snow in the long run, but I only need to make it to my car. Grabbing my coat and purse from the coat rag in passing, i'm out the door and halfway down to my car in no time. To get there, is the only thing I allow myself to think of; it's what I solely function on in these seconds. I make it there just in time.

"Swan!"

"Stop calling me that fucking name!"

I don't turn around to see whether he's put shoes on his feet or standing barefoot. Getting inside, I start the engine and just drive.

The snow falls blithely in soft flakes, but I refuse to give them or the rear view mirror any attention.

Miles and hours fly past, and again I find that the more distance I put between Edward Cullen and me, the easier it gets to breath. I'm collected; calm, even.

Deciding to get rid of the dried tear stains and use the toilet, I stop at the next best diner I happen to come across. It's just second— hardly longer than it takes to turn off the engine— and then it's there. Everything. Pounding, scratching and beating down walls I tried hard to keep up, demanding attention. I can't fight it anymore and I'm too tired to even try. I give in.

The onslaught of memories made both years back and just a few hours ago flash before my eyes like a montage. Each scene hurts more than the one before, cutting deep and opening wounds that should have healed long ago. Or maybe never even been at all. And that, that vicious little grain of doubt— this false hope— he managed to plant in my head, is what really kills me. It's more than I can take.

The sobs skirt past the lump in my throat and bubble from my lips, while I struggle to even breathe. Tears spill and fall hard and fast as I cry and scream to myself in the confines of my rental car. The steering wheel takes the brunt of my anger at myself and the hate I feel for him.

My heart pounds away in my chest, beating despite the knife he stabbed into it. And it wants what my head doesn't. They fight to reign over the other, both demanding to be heard and obeyed.

I just don't know whom to follow.

December 24th, 2014

The lights shine bright in the dark, like stars on a cloudless night sky. Even from a distance, I've seen them sparkling and dancing. Pulling into the driveway, I find that it's not only the windows Edward decorated, but the whole house. There's a wreath with an oversized red bow hanging on the front door, and the wooden Rudolph and Santa stand unmoving on either side of the stairs.

The front door opens before I even have the chance to pull the car key. There's no yelling or running toward me though, he just stands there and watches me.

It's only after working up the courage to actually get out of the car, that I realize he's holding a phone to his ear.

"Yeah, it's her. She's here."

The snow crunches noisily under my boots as I make my up to the house. Like a countdown that seems to get louder and louder the more you run out of time.

He hangs up without another word as soon as I reach the last step. Even as we both walk inside, he remains silent, and it unnerves me. I've mentally prepared myself for all kinds of scenarios before making the drive back to the cabin, but the silent treatment wasn't one of them.

Despite my inner tumult, I can't help but smile at the sight that greets me. Lights, figurines, candles and the lit tree, all out and situated in their rightful places. It's beautiful; just like I'd wanted it to be.

I'm so mesmerized, I only notice Edward moving around as he sits down on the steps in front of me.

"I did okay?"

"It's perfect."

He nods, wiping his hands over his thighs. I guess he exchanged his sweats and shirt from this morning for something warmer at some point, because he's dressed in jeans and a hoodie now.

"We need to talk."

"We really do."

He holds his hand out for me to take, and though it's not an olive branch per se, I take it. "First off, you forgot your phone on your way out." He hands it to me as I sit down beside him. "Alice called a few times and I eventually picked up. I was worried and thought she might have heard from you."

I sigh. "Goodie."

"Yeah, she is pretty angry, so you better call her back some time soon. They're all worried sick."

"They?" My heart drops. "So much for my surprise."

"Believe me, you surprised everybody all right. It was inevitable though, Alice was cursing up a storm and dad heard, so…"

"It's fine. I'm not even sure anymore how the hell I could have ever thought this would work out."

"It would have if it weren't for me, to say it in your own words. And it was good plan," he smiles, tapping my knee with his knuckle. "Man, seeing their jaws drop would have been awesome. Anyway, mom is still over the moon that you're here. You'll probably get an earful for that stunt you pulled earlier, but you know she can't stay mad for too long. Just… don't do that shit ever again. Going through that twice was enough for me to last a lifetime."

"I promise. And I need to apologize for— "

"Accepted."

"Edward."

"No, it really is. I'm just glad to you're here and in one piece." He takes my hand once more and squeezed it. "And if it's about earlier, you have all the right in the world to be mad at me. I did some thinking, and you're right about everything you said. Fuck, I'm so mad at myself for having been such a bastard all along. It's no wonder you couldn't stand being around me anymore. Thinking that, by doing what I did you were forced to do what you did, really pisses me off."

"Okay, but I want you to know that I thought long and hard about everything, too. And though, a part of me is still wounded and hurt by your actions, it's not fair to put all the blame on you. We've both been cowards, and we've both been idiots. We both made mistakes, Edward, and I want to apologize for mine."

"Okay."

"And I think that it's time to put the past to rest. I doubt it will work overnight, but we've wasted four years and it's enough. I can't do it anymore, I need to be around my family and friends I need to be around the people I love."

"As we need you." Flashing me a bright smile, he leans back on the stairs.

I follow suit, and though it's not the most comfortable position, we remain like that for a while. Holding hands and gazing at the ceiling, while lost to our own thoughts.

"How do you feel about cookies and a hot chocolate?" I decide to break the silence once my butt starts to hurt.

"I feel like that's exactly what I need after a day like this. C'mon." He pulls me onto my feet and into his arms. "I know we still have a long way to go, but I'm really happy to have you back."

"I'm glad to have you back, too. I missed my… friend."

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